A Little (a Lot) About Me

While reading Love our Lurkers posts, I thought about my future lurkers, now that I am committed to being back. I realized that I pretty much picked up where I left off, so unless you read me way back when, it might be hard for new readers to get to know me. I was especially inspired by Still LOL Days and Our Beginning over at Fondles' blog because as a new reader it was a great introduction. I'd like to do something similar for you, current readers and potential future lurkers. So here we go.

Origins

I've always been fascinated by spanking, all the way back to being five or six years old and asking my friends to tell me about their punishments. My parents didn't spank - in fact, they didn't punish at all. I was expected to manage myself and if I failed to do so, I was told "I'm sure you're punishing yourself enough," as if I was just expected to carry the weight and guilt of my mistakes. Is it any surprise I love being turned over Mr. W's knee now? It's such a relief to just let go.

Lifestyle

That being said, we call spanking "playing" and though he has always been my top and I have always been his bottom, he doesn't punish me for real misdeeds. Mr. W has held the same lifelong fascination that I have and we both enjoy the sensual and sexual elements of spanking and all that goes with it - the authority and submission, the implements, the positions, and yes, the punishments. I am his young lady and he is my Sir, and when we are in these roles, he can make up any misdeed he wants to punish me for, and anything goes. I've been "punished" for everything from being so late that he forgot to wear a watch to being an apple thief.

How We Met and How We Got Here

We met working at the Barnes & Noble in Calabasas, CA in late winter of 2003, both of us then in our mid-twenties. We'd confessed our spanking fetishes in the Customer Service booth of the bookstore and had been obsessed with one another ever since - but I had a boyfriend, he had a girlfriend. Then they both broke up with us in the same week - and one of the reasons mine broke up with me was my friendship with Mr. W. We spent the summer hanging out together, madly in love but neither of us able to be in a relationship. This is how it came to be that he caned me before he kissed me. We slept side by side, he bared my bottom. Then in the fall he moved to Oregon and I stayed behind.

Two years later, he came back to California, only to announce he was moving back to Oregon. However, we couldn't see each other because the guy I now lived with had worked in that same B&N with us, and was now my boyfriend. He'd been jealous of Mr. W back during that first summer and our relationship was on rocky footing and I was scared of what would or wouldn't happen next. So I told Mr. W I couldn't see him before he left again - and then, while my boyfriend went camping, I invited him to Disney Land, where we spent an amazing day and kissed for our first time under the fireworks while, I swear to goodness, "When You Wish Upon A Star" was playing. When my boyfriend got back from camping two days later, he took me to a park and - you guessed it - broke up with me. He thought I might want to move to Oregon with Mr. W.

Two years after that, I became Mrs. W. A month after getting married, I became Abby. I started this blog as a wedding gift. He had just discovered spanking blogs and had shared them with me, and I knew from the moment I realized what they were that I wanted to write one too. It feels both like Mr. W and I were always destined for each other, and destined to bring our love of spanking to the world.

Did You Really Make Spanking Videos?

Yes, we really did. In 2008 and 2009, we decided that the blog was going well and both of us had always had a secret desire to make a spanking video, so we made one. Then we made more. I called the series Naughty Abby, and for a time I even owned naughtyabby.com and sold video downloads there. I've made them available on Clips4Sale and there's a link in the sidebar if you're curious - please note, they control the prices but even though they're SD, I stand by these videos. We worked really hard on them. Mr. W did an amazing job of editing two video and audio feeds into one film, and I did my best job of putting my bum out there for all to enjoy. I didn't know how to feel about these videos for a few years, but I'm proud of them now.

My Disappearances

I have been living with major depression for most of my life. It got really bad five or six years ago, and though I was seeing a doctor and trying to find the right anti-depressant, I was also ruining my chances of finding the right medication by self-medicating. That is, I was drinking more, then more, and then finally all the time. Then I'd quit and try to pull myself together and get back to writing and living and caring. Then one day I'd start again. It cycled like this for years, medications and doctors and periods of sobriety and even a five day stay in a hospital for mental health so that I could medically detox and get started on a recovery program. There was absolutely no spanking at the mental institute and that makes this paragraph all the more depressing, doesn't it? The point is, I wasn't writing because I couldn't write. We weren't playing because it was unsafe. So I disappeared.

The happy ending to this story is that I am one year and three months sober. I am on the right medication and my heart doesn't always feel broken. Mr. W and I are stronger and better than ever, all the way down to our orgasms, no joke. I don't have a lot of sexy stories from the time I was away, but now that I'm back writing, that means we're back to playing, which means I get to tell the world the dirty details, because I really do love writing about spanking.

What's Next

I created an e-book of my favorite posts from this blog, but I haven't published it yet because I am an absolute chicken. I went through the whole Amazon Kindle process and everything. I just want to give you something perfect, and I'm terrified it isn't perfect.

I want to write a collection of erotic poetry about butts, perhaps inspired by artwork, namely photos of bottoms, both spanked and unspanked.

I have fiction to write. I have so many story beginnings, it's time I flesh them out and give you a spanking heroine who isn't me. Nah, she'll probably still be me in disguise.

We're also working on a small business venture. More to come on that!


So that's the general scoop. I am happy to answer questions, even about the more sensitive subjects, as long as they are respectful. I am also open to email at abby.schoolhouse@gmail.com. If you're going through anything, maybe I can help, or at least be someone to listen. And thanks for listening to me!

Ghostwriting

This name is a phantom more solid than my self. It appears; I fade to let it speak. It sings; eyes closed, I sway, enraptured.

Not “I” or “We” but “Abby’s back.”

A haunting returned –  let me be possessed.

Filth Foreshadowed

Men's Adventure Magazines (Pop Pulp Art found here!)

A few months ago, I started a project involving the random selection of a story from the collected Brothers Grimm, followed by rewriting the selected story as an erotic spanking tale. I got through one story, sort of. I wrote the entire thing except the actual spanking scene. Still, excited by the project, I used a random number generator to select the next page number: page 826. The story, "The Aged Mother."

This is a one paragraph story about an old woman who is lonely because everyone she knows, including her own two sons, has died. In the middle of her lamentations one night, she hears the church bells ring, so she goes down to the church, only to find its pews packed full of her dearly departed. Her dead aunt comes to her and says:

"Look there beside the altar, and you will see your sons." The old woman looked there, and saw her two children, one hanging on the gallows, the other bound to the wheel. Then said the aunt, "Behold, so would it have been with them if they had lived, and if the good God had not taken them to himself when they were innocent children."

A sexy spanking story this does not make. So, back in January, I became stuck. For one thing, the story is one paragraph long. Secondly, the sons would have to be made into daughters, because I, at this point in my life, have not yet ventured into writing men into submissive roles. Thirdly, even at it's mildest, turning this story into an erotic spanking story is the equivalent of torture porn. So I gave up. I didn't want to say "Pass" and pull a new random story to retell because that felt like cheating, and and I didn't want to write this story. So: nothing.

Five months later, I have remembered that I like torture. I've always been fascinated by it, in fact. Torture in the classic sense, that is. Scold's bridles, pears, whipping posts. None of this water torture nonsense, or Hostel films, or prejudicial inhumanity. No, I'm talking medieval, sexualized, wood-engraved, Andrei Codrescu's The Blood Countess-style torture. I even own sword-swallower Daniel P. Mannix's History of Torture, romanticized and devoid of references though it may be. My favorite fairy tale retelling is Anne Bishop's "Match Girl" as it appears in one of Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling's fairy tale collections, Ruby Slippers, Golden Tears. Per that retelling, poor little match girl, indeed.

This morning when I got into work, I realized I didn't care much about my work day, and in between moments of productivity, I worked on a list of both stories and blog posts that have fallen by the wayside. The Grimm project was on the top of the list. Then I started taking notes... and notes... and notes... and while I do not have an actual story to present to you now, I am finally writing again. The aged mother has been turned into a farmer, the sons into wives, the gallows and wheel into... well... you're just going to have to wait on that, but there are whipping posts and stocks in the future, as well as a second wife's skirt lifted well over her waist while she is, shall we say, retained.

You may have noticed I changed the header image and subtitle of the blog. I want to write more about the writing process. And yes, the filming process, which may or may not begin again this weekend, depending on the mood of the household. For the writing, I just need to sit down and write. For the filming, well, I've gained thirty pounds since I last filmed, and I wasn't exactly slender then, so it's all a matter of deciding whether to bare myself to that degree or not. More bottom to spank, right? Well, I'd like to think that's the case.

So, to round out the blog entry, I'm going a bit mad with desire. Wanting to write spanking stories at work, wanting to make spanking films whilst I'm actually only walking the dog and going with Mr. W to the grocery store. I'm going to write a story of depravity, filth, and torture. And spanking. And then, with any luck, I'll have a chance to reenact some of it on film. And then it's on to zombies. You don't even want to know about the spanking Antarctic zombies...

Of Monsters and Men

Star Belly Beneath My Bed by Lisa Evans. See more at her blog, Firefluff.

When considering new fiction, I often think about the nature of the world in which the story is to be set. I'm compelled by the idea of worlds where erotic corporal punishment is a commonly accepted part of daily life, but I find it hard to justify these worlds, in part due to the mistreatment of humanity in our own world. Stories that serve many of us as arousing fantasies can too easily be found as the living nightmares of those for whom suffering is not a luxury.

Man's inhumanity to man can be a terrible stumbling block when trying to write spanking erotica. Morally, I believe that corporal punishment is unjust and inhumane and that non-consensual domination of another person's body or mind is the gravest of wrongs. In my own fantasies, however, those morals become quite blurred. That is why I latch on to the ideas of worlds so different from ours, such as the lands of myth and fairy tales, in my writing. In these worlds, I can play with sex and pain without feeling like a moral failure.

When I found the illustrations of Lisa Evans, one of which is pictured above, I was immediately drawn in by them. I showed a friend a picture called The Keepers' Tea Party and said, simply, "I want to live there." For two days straight, I've pulled up her blog whenever I've had a free moment, staring longingly into the worlds she depicts. I want that to be the reaction when my stories are read. I want the reader to long, to desperately, heart-achingly long, to be in that world, either as the inflictor of pain and punishment or as the recipient. I don't want to show you a monster that makes you afraid or uncomfortable. I want to show you a monster and for you to say, "I want that monster under my bed."

Scribe for Sale?

What do you think of the idea of on-demand spanking fiction?

I've been considering a new venture, a business venture, that would involve the writing of personalized stories. You tell me what you want in your story and I create it, just for you. I haven't figured out what the fee would be (similar to buying a term paper, I'd imagine?) or what rules would apply (18+ characters a must, NC ok, minor squick probably fine but dealt with on a case by case basis, no fan fic due to copyrights, that sort of thing). As much as I want to keep working on putting a story collection together for actual publication, I really like the idea of creating these personal erotic works. They would exist just for the customer, not to be published on this blog or anywhere else.

I like the intimacy of this idea. One of the stumbling blocks I hit with my own fiction is suddenly wondering, "What if I'm the only person who finds this sexy? What if I'm the only one aroused by this?" While there is nothing wrong with that, and while I know in most scenarios that wouldn't be the case anyway, I really love the idea that I would be writing something just right for somebody else. One of the things I regret about not making any more Naughty Abby films is that I never got to fulfill some of the scene requests I'd received. There were some really good ones, and this would be another way for me to fulfill those fantasies.

Tell me what you think, either here or by emailing me at abby.schoolhouse@gmail.com.

A Dream Defurred

Just when I thought I was going to start writing again, this little bundle of furry joy came into my life. Much to my chagrin, spanking is pretty far from my mind right now, especially as the sound of it would throw her into a panic. Writing is a much quieter activity, of course, but even so, I just want to play with her and email photos of her to my family.

On the other hand, I want so much to be writing. After the exhilaration of writing that dream into a story two weeks ago, I want to immerse myself in the creation of scenes like that again, if not for my every day life then for everyone else to read and (hopefully) enjoy. I have also come to realize that I cannot stand my current job, and want so much to be writing full-time. I'm not sure how I can make that happen right now, as I am enormously broke and puppy has certainly not helped, but I really do hope to figure it out. As noted in previous posts, I'm a big fan of "So You Think You Can Dance" and all these young and talented dancers talk about working to making their dreams come true and doing what they love, and it's becoming unbearable. I want to do what I love, too! Apparently, what I love is cuddling with my pets and writing violently erotic stories.

There has to be a way to make that work. There just has to be a way.

The Neverending Spanking.... Blog

www.typewritermuseum.org

I've encountered a good bit of Internet buzz/fuss over the past two days concerning the news of the possibility of a remake of the 1984 film The Neverending Story. The film, despite straying a good deal from Michael Ende's beautiful novel, has always been one of my favorites, and I owe much of my own spirituality and belief system to its portrayal of a world called Fantasia being consumed by an emptiness called the Nothing because of lost faith.

Since reading the news, I have been haunted by scenes from the film: the Swamp of Sadness, the Rockbiter's empty hands, the Ivory Tower standing alone in an empty world. I even dreamed of the Gmork, the wolf-beast servant of the Nothing who terrorized me when I first saw the film when I was five years old. Apparenty, he terrorizes me to this day.

The thing that frightens me the most, however, is not the Gmork or the Nothing or even the possibility of a remake by Leonardo DiCaprio's production company. The thing that frightens me the most is that I realized I am my own Nothing. I have been absent from this blog, from the world of Internet spanking, from the lifestyle itself. Not all of those things are of my own choosing, but my absence from myself can be blamed on no one but me.

I miss this. I miss picking the perfect picture. I miss making arcane references and wondering what they become in the Google translator for my international readers. I miss describing the curve of my own backside, the sound of its flesh when soundly smacked. I miss knowing that I'm turning the world on with my words and, yes, occasionally my own soundly smacked image.

This world, I realize now, is my Fantasia. I am Bastian, the quiet and bookish outcast on one side of the mirror. I am Atreyu, fierce warrior, on the other. In other words, I am both the woman I am in my daily life and Abby, fierce spanking recipient and writer. The two, like Bastian and Atreyu, are inseperable. Atreyu's story, the Childlike Empress told Bastian, is Bastian's own.

Abby's story is my own -

- and it looks like our story hasn't ended yet.

Tale or Tail?

A page from Serpieri's Obssession. View more here.

Serpieri's graphic novel series Morbus Gravis kept a place of pride on my bookshelf for six years before I read them all. If you've seen them, or any image of Serpieri's heroine Druuna, you'll understand. What does plot matter, even when the plot involves drooling multi-penised horny mutants, when the artistry is an ode to the main character's glorious backside? Several other volumes, such as Obsession, Druuna X, and Druuna X 2, were published just of Serpieri's artwork of this ample goddess, justifying my inattention to the graphic novels.

Now, if it takes me the better side of a decade to getting around to reading the non-juicy bits of a graphic novel series, can you imagine how long it takes me to read the entirety of a blue piece of fiction? I am definitely guilty of reading only the "good parts," leaving the rest, often including character development and plot, for some other time, also known as never o'clock.

I would write more fiction if I treated it as I did my erotic reading. I get so caught up in the wheres and whys, even the last names, whether they're mentioned or not, that I never get to write those "good parts." I've started so many stories that I think would be really fantastic if I could just finish them. The naughty parts would be all the better for the care and attention I put into the reason for the scene, the mental space of the characters, the exact shade of grass outside the window. And why? Why? I'm an avid reader and writer, whether I ever finish anything or not, and if I don't bother with the pages before the panties come down, why do I think anyone else will take the time to get to know the tale before the tail?

I started writing a handful of stories based on the suggestions you shared with me over the past week. If I ever actually finish anything, I'll start posting them on the Naughty Abby site. That's the plan, anyway. What I wonder is, should I mark off the good parts so no one misses anything in the scrolling? How important is plot in a spanking story? And is that really what I'm writing? Perhaps that's the real trouble. I haven't decided whether I'm writing literature with a bit of spanking, or spanking with a bit of literature. Is there a place for me in this genre? Does anyone care about punishment with plot?

This one was always my favorite. Wonderfully unsettling.

Subject Me

I've had trouble writing lately. I'm not out of ideas. In terms of fiction, I have countless documents consisting of one to three paragraphs, stories with intent but not content. For the blog, it's not as if the subject of spanking is suddenly uninspiring. I have so much I want to write about for you: the auditory experience of spanking, the notion of violence in what we do, the surprise places one finds corporal punishment--the all-too brief beating of the Russian prostitute in the video-game inspired action film Hitman comes to mind.

No, the ideas are in plenitude. What lacks, what I lack, is ambition. I want to write. I do. I want to "be a writer." However, dear reader, I'm having trouble doing the actual writing. I was briefly inspired by the list of crimes and punishments posted above, as found on a random Flickr page. It got me to start this post, all the way up to the phrase "dear reader," at which point I walked away, wandered into the kitchen, and forgot about writing entirely. It's now two days later and I'm back at it, but it's really more of a "yes I'm still out here" post than it is one of reflection or eroticism.

That said, I wonder if your ideas would benefit me. Get me back into finishing fiction, or inspire brief sexy tales to be told for your more... um... immediate enjoyment. Mr. W is working all weekend. Send me your story ideas, and perhaps I'll finally write something worthy of calling myself a writer, not just a naked blogger. My bottom is taking a break from taking requests. Subject my hands to your wishes.

A Writing Spasm

After coming home from vacation to find the longest, most ridiculous spam ever as a comment on my last post, I found myself wondering, "Now, why can't I sit down and write these days? Crazy people can do it. Why not me?"

I've always considered myself a writer. These past few years, however, I've begun to refer to myself in my internal dialogues as "the writer who does not write." After writing 70+ pages on fairy tales for my college thesis, I thought it would be easy to rewrite some of my favorite tales. After all, the thesis was on how the primary characters of the maiden, the prince, the mother, and the father have changed in retellings of five specific fairy tales over the centuries. How simple, I thought, to take the darker elements and create modern retellings that are true to those dark roots? I write a page, two pages, and then... nothing. It's not even writer's block. I just stop trying.

When I started blogging and the words were flowing faster than my fingers could type them, I decided I would try to add my favorite past-time to the stories. After all, who doesn't want to imagine vapid Snow White getting birched by the hunter when he takes her into the woods? Or find out just how wicked Cinderella's wicked stepmother was? I had a few great ideas. I started writing them, beginnings, bits and pieces. I got ten pages into one--ten pages! too long, but I haven't written that much in years--and had finally reached the spanking scene when, once again, I just stopped.

Am I afraid of writing a spanking scene? I never have. I've described my own in short form here, but I've never realy written a scene. I feel like I'd do it justice. I simply haven't tried. I can see the scene in my head, down to the eyelet details of the main character's cotton pantaloons. It's set in the West Indies. She's sweating, the fabric clinging to her bottom, the backs of her thighs. She's never been spanked before. The man she loves beckons her forward. "Madame Marie told me you deserve to be punished, little girl," he tells her, patting his lap, "but she didn't tell me why. We'll just have to start slow and keep going until you seem contrite." She shakes her head. This isn't what Marie asked her to do the night before. When he entered her room, she had thought she would finally be in his arms. Punished? By him? Her new legs tremble. "Come here," he demands more forcefully. She steps towards him. He smiles, his teeth gleaming like pearls from the blue of his beard. She steps again.

When she reaches him, he pulls her to his right side, pressing his hand against the small of her back to bend her forward over his lap. Her white camisole rides up. The small of her back glistens. She is so pale, so delicate. He wonders whether Marie was not being cruel in asking him to punish so fragile a girl, but once she is postitioned fully over his lap, her bottom surprisingly full and straining against her cotton pants, he silently thanks the madame for this unexpected gift. He cups one cheek, then the other, testing her bottom's resiliency. She wiggles. When he slaps her once, firmly, she freezes then looks back at him slowly, shaking her hair from her eyes. He sees shock there, and confusion, but at the core of her gaze is a hunger unlike any he's seen from any woman, nevermind a pale and silent girl. In the humid evening, he shivers. "Eyes on the floor, young lady," he demands, catching the tremble in his throat. "You know what you've done." Even if I don't, he thinks to himself before raising his hand over her. The spanking begins.

Hm. Well, that wasn't planned. There's more of a scene there, more description to come. Maybe I'm going to have to write the whole story on here, if it takes an audience to get me going. Maybe I'll even post the back-story (though perhaps not all ten pages of it). Even that little bit wore me out, though, and we still didn't get to the good part. To be continued, I suppose...